Whenever I hurt myself enough to need a hospital and/or "long term" pain meds (more than 3 days), I get insecure. I don't know why. I just know is. I've warned my husband that I'm feeling needy and he is prepared with hugs and kisses and hand-holding. We both know my insecurity right now is not logical and we both know it needs to be managed emotionally.

This can be rough on me as an editor. Sometimes I sit back and wonder, "was I right to reject that story?" even though I know I am. It did not fit something that was needed for the zine/project—whatever I was reading it for. Other times, I get weirded out when someone I have just rejected immediately f-lists me on one of the social networks I'm on. While I understand the want to know the editor more to figure out what makes them tick, the insecure part of me is wondering if they are plotting to yell at me at a convention… or to kill my cat.

Seriously, the former is a very real fear for me. So far, I've had nothing but good meetings of the "you rejected me" kind. The two that come to mind are Dylan Birtolo ("Yes, you rejected me twice!") and "Tome Wyrm" ("You know, you were right, my manuscript really was poorly done. I'm glad you rejected me.") But, I'm not certain what I would do if some of those people who have emailed me with hostile replies to my rejection, came up to me at a convention to yell at me for my rejection of their story.

I suppose there's no use wondering about something that hasn't happened yet and hope never happens.

Meh. I hate being in pain. It makes my brain do funny things.